“Thoms!” Taradira raised her voice, and immediately her assistant entered the tent, standing at attention. “Take these two and find a tent for them. I have something to discuss with our friend here.”

The man saluted, and nodded to Tullund, who followed him outside, Lily trailing behind. Ferene watched the three of them go until the tent flap fell closed behind them.

“Now.” Taradira said, sitting down with her small book in hand. “Selveren of Treventhal.”

Nodding, Ferene sat down across from the General. She felt a pressure in her chest. Part of her whispered in her ear, telling her to stop Taradira and leave. Telling her that she had gone all this time not knowing, not caring about her father, and learning wouldn’t make anything better. The world was filled with people she could kill to make a difference. The man in the city yesterday and the soldier she had killed earlier today. People like them lived, hurting innocents, and knowing about her past did nothing to change her ability to kill them.

Yet she knew there was more to life than that. More than death. If she could meet her father, she might understand why her mother did what she did, what happened to put her in this position. Forgive her father, forgive her mother, and forgive herself. Ferene found herself shivering.

“Tell me.” She said, meeting Taradira’s eyes. Pale red, set in brown, framed by gray. Did her father look so different as well?

“To the southeast, beyond the borders of the kingdom, is a small strip of land, unclaimed by any lord. A small, peaceful village is there, next to a river and hill. They call the village Riverhill, as it’s not important enough to have a creative name. Some sixty or so humans live there, and a single Hatharen. That is Selveren.”

Thinking on it, that seemed wrong. In Ferene’s experience, Hatharen fought. “What does he do there?”

Taradira tapped the page of her book. “Medicine. He is the village’s doctor. I met him once, but we spoke very little, and I have a letter from him telling me that he is still there and will remain so.”

Ferene nodded, but she found herself frowning. Then something else occurred to her. “Do you know where Linara is?”

This was met with a short laugh. “That one goes where she wants. I get letters, sometimes, if she wanders too far from where she last was, or changes her destination. She is still in the independent lands, last I heard.”

Taking a deep breath, Ferene nodded again. “Thank you.”

“If Selveren is your father, what will you do?”

“I’ll ask him why.”

“’Why’?”

“Why my mother felt the need to give herself and her child to thieves and killers. Why he wasn’t there to help her. Why she needed to die in a dark cave where nobody cared enough to get her medicine.”

Taradira’s expression darkened. “And if you don’t like the answer, will you kill him? Are you prepared to do that?”

Ferene remembered the dream. Screaming her hatred at the shadow of her father. “I’ve wanted to kill him for a long time.” She whispered, then spoke louder. “I am.”

There was nothing in Taradira’s expression to tell Ferene if the General heard what she whispered or not. Looking away, then back at her, Ferene suddenly felt hungry. “I haven’t eaten today.”

Taradira stared at her, her mouth opening, then closing, then opening again as she laughed. “Not at all? You truly devote yourself to one thing at a time. I will not hold you any longer.” Standing up, the massive Hatharen grabbed something off a table pushed to the side of the tent and tossed it at Ferene. Catching it easily, she found herself holding a small but heavy cloth sack, accompanied by the sound of metal on metal. Money.

“I’m paying you for your time and trouble. That should be more than enough to cover your journey. Somewhere in the city you’ll find food, even at this hour. It’s far too late for there to be any food in the camp. Meal hours are very specific.”

“Thank you.” Ferene said, shoving the bag into the pocket of her jacket.

Moving through the streets, Ferene found it difficult to remember how she ended up near the camp, and instead followed the main road towards the center of the city, her eyes on the massive braziers lighting the top of the castle’s walls. Yesterday, she had walked away from it, and didn’t notice how it stood like a beacon in the night. This time, she made use of it, getting closer and closer until she felt she was at the right distance. It didn’t take her long to find the university, and then follow the path to the inn.

There were still a few people in the common room this late, groups of two or three fancily-dressed men and women sitting at tables far apart, heads bowed in as they spoke in low tones. Ferene was quickly met by one of the staff, and she mentioned Velan, the room, and her need for food. Very quickly she was brought a plate with two cold leftover rolls from dinner and one whole apple. She ate the small meal quickly and was left unsatisfied, but moved upstairs anyway.

Trying her best to be quiet, Ferene pushed the door to the room open and stepped inside.

“Ferene?” Velan slowly sat up in the bed, looking at her. She closed the door behind her, putting them both in darkness, only a small bit of light from the city outside leaking through the window. “You came back. I was worried about you.”

“Sorry.” She apologized, pulling her dagger out of her jacket and putting it on the table before dropping the clothing on the chair. Taking off her boots, she sat down on the oversized, too-soft bed. Velan reached out a hand and she caught it.

“I looked for you but I couldn’t find you.”

He squeezed her hand. It felt strange. She missed Rilya, but Velan was small, delicate, and soft. There was something alluring about that. “I left the city. Business.”

“Did it go well? He asked.

The question made her stop. That was something else. Rilya could never ask her that kind of question. She could never respond. Ferene held back tears. “Good people died. I couldn’t save them.”

Velan pulled her down, gently. Ferene could have easily resisted, but she fell, limply, to his side. Her body shook. “You can’t save everyone.” He said, wrapping his arms around her.

She found herself embracing him, pulling him closer, squeezing him like she had the other night. People died because she hadn’t thought everything through. Alref used her. Tullund distracted her, though it was not his fault. Taradira used her as well, but not for anything evil. She shouldn’t have trusted Alref. She should have gotten more information. She shouldn’t have gone with Tullund to fix the stupid fence, should never have left those two alone, should-

She felt him rubbing her back. “You go one way, save one person, but what about the people you leave behind? You can’t be everywhere, you can’t do everything.” He spoke softly. “You have to forgive yourself.”

“I can’t.”

“Can I forgive you, then?” He shifted, using one arm to throw the blankets over the two of them. His face was right to hers as they lay together. “If you can’t forgive yourself, will you accept forgiveness from others?”

“The dead can’t forgive.”

“Do the living blame you?”

She felt herself shaking. She wanted to sob. She wrapped her arms tighter around him. Tullund didn’t blame her. Taradira didn’t blame her. Did Amelia even blame her? The woman had warned them and that got her killed. She wanted to protect Tullund, and maybe Ferene as well. “No.”

For a time, they spoke no words. Ferene silently cried, holding Velan like a stuffed doll. “When you killed those people who were after me, I was scared of you.” He finally said. “I never saw someone die before, and you just…you just did that, to them, so fast, like it was nothing. But then you helped me up. I knew you were protecting me. I was still a little scared, and the blood…didn’t help. But being near you made me feel safe.”

Swallowing, Ferene nodded, feeling better. She succeeded in protecting Velan. She succeeded in protecting Tullund. The thin man shifted in her embrace, bringing in his face up to hers, pressing his lips against hers, at first hesitantly, then more forcefully when she didn’t pull away.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come back.”

“I have to leave again.”

Nodding in response, he kissed her again. “I won’t keep you here.”

He wasn’t Rilya, but she found herself wanting his touch. Just holding him wasn’t enough. Rolling over, she pinned him beneath her, pushing herself up to look down at him. He started to say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth Ferene leaned down, kissing him, taking the lead herself. She could feel his body underneath hers, weak and delicate. Running her hands down his chest, across his stomach, she didn’t feel muscle underneath. Velan lived a life entirely different to hers, entirely different to Rilya’s.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The next morning, Ferene woke up, finding herself laying beside Velan once again, both of his arms wrapped around one of hers. Slowly, she pulled herself free, standing up and sliding out of bed. He did not stir, even as she turned to look at him, brushing some strands of his long hair out of his face. She felt a desire to kiss him again, but held herself back, instead stepping away from the bed and donning first her clothes, then her armor.

She did her best to stay quiet as she pulled the straps tight, and Velan slept through it all, his face peaceful. Ferene found herself smiling as she looked at him. She went over her other belongings. The purse of money from Taradira, the bag with the bottle of silver water from Telhrian, the dagger from Rilya, her own greatsword, her short sword, and finally her own knife. Lastly, the jacket, taken from the soldier she killed on the road so far away.

Taking the bottle of liquid out of the bag, she placed it on the table in the room. With the money from Taradira, she didn’t need to sell it any more. Velan was smart and could figure out what to do with it on his own. Telhrian overestimated her ability by giving it to her to begin with. With that, she collected the rest of her things and slipped out the door.

It felt good to have her sword on her back again. There was a time that going a full day without it would have been unthinkable, and if she had it yesterday things might have turned out differently, but she felt better being able to leave it behind. She could fight without it. She could exist without it, and something about that felt important. As Ferene tried to find the thoughts to properly express why, she walked down the stairs and out into the street, ignoring the breakfast at the inn. She wanted fresh fruit. Surely there was a market in the city.

Breakfast ended up being green grapes. The merchant she bought them from said they were white but Ferene was absolutely certain they were green. As she followed a street towards the edge of the city, she picked them off the stem, one by one, and tossed them into her mouth, biting down and enjoying the sweetness.

At the east gate, she found a very different scene than the west gate she had entered from two days ago. The area immediately inside the wall stood devoid of houses, instead an open field currently filled with wagons, carriages, and carts of all sizes. Men and women walked around the perimeter, some heading into the maze.

“Nice sword. You know how to use it?” Someone asked. Turning, Ferene found a man sitting on a bench not too far from her, dressed in a long brown coat, heavy leather boots visible below it.

“Yes.” She replied, watching him.

He smiled back at her. “Want a job, then? I’ve got three wagons and only two guards. Figure a might as well make it three and three. You’re here because you’re goin east, ‘m’I right?” Ferene nodded as she stepped towards the man. He stood up, extending a hand. “Name’s Quent. How about yours?”

“Ferene.” She shook his hand, getting a better look at his face under the brim of his hat. Stubble covered his jaw, the remains of a full beard recently chopped away. He smiled easily as he strongly gripped her hand.

“So, how about a business deal, Ferene? How far you lookin to go?”

“East to the border, then south. Looking for a village called Riverhill.”

Releasing her hand, Quent rubbed his chin. “Never heard of a Riverhill, but there’s a lot of small villages out there. Border is a good two weeks away. Can pay you for that if you just keep your eyes out for trouble and your hand on your weapon.”

Reaching over her shoulder, Ferene tapped the hilt of her sword. “I can do that.”

“Give you six triangles a day, plus twenty if any fighting breaks out. Doesn’t sound like much but my crew will be doing cooking and the meals are included. Sound good?” Ferene nodded. She’d never worked as a proper guard before, but being with others would be better than being alone, even if it was slower. Any highwaymen that made a move on her watch would be a bonus.

Quent showed her to his wagons, nestled towards the front of the maze, fairly close to the gate. When it opened and the guards started moving people through, they were fifth in line. Quent had Ferene sit on the first wagon, next to the driver. As they approached the gate, Quent talked to the guards, and one of the armored men stepped forward, looked into the back of the covered wagon, and waved them through. Quent stood next to the other two guards and smiled at Ferene as they passed.

Two horses pulled each of the wagons, the beasts walking easily down the slope and taking the road to the east. Ferene started the journey alert, but the woman beside her shook her head. “No danger this close’ta’tha capital.” Some of her words blended together, the cadence of her words shifting between fast and slow. Ferene nodded and leaned back, placing her sword across her knees.

The first day, the promised meal turned out to be hard travel bread, handed out without stopping. The wagons rolled on until nightfall, when they finally stopped, the crew tending to the horses. Ferene stood with the other two guards, both of them older, tall men with hard faces and broad shoulders, looking almost like twins. One of them nodded in acknowledgment of Ferene but neither spoke to her.

The wagon crews did make dinner, then, a pot filled with dried meat and vegetables. Ferene picked through the bowl she was handed, eating potatoes and carrots as she sat alone. The entire process was silent, the wagon crews huddled together on one side of the camp, not speaking to each other but exchanging occasional looks. On another side of the pot, the two hulking guards sat side by side, never taking their eyes off their food. It was a far cry from any of the meals she had back in Yonthal, where the noise of conversation filled the air even if she couldn’t understand it.

By the time she finished her meal, Ferene felt more alone with the large group than traveling with Velan. She sat down with her back against a tree stump and slowly fell asleep as she watched the others.

One of the other two guards poked her awake early in the morning, letting her take over the watch. Looking to the east, Ferene watched the sun rise, splashing colors across the clouds. Below, the land spread out, hills rolling away from her, lined by rivers and roads, dotted with the occasional house or small village. Unlike the farm-covered lands west of the capital, the hills to the east were covered in pastures. Sheep, goats and cows cast long shadows in the early light.

Hearing sounds behind her, she tore her eyes away from it. The group was waking up, six wagon workers and two guards slowly coming to their feet. It didn’t take long for them to be on their way. Ferene found herself sitting on the front wagon once again, sitting next to the same woman as before, the other person assigned to her wagon getting in the back. Slowly, the horses started walking, pulling the wagon down the road.

It reminded her of traveling with Linara, months ago, riding on the flat wagon of stolen goods. The covered wagon she rode now looked different, but sitting on the front felt the same as back then. Everything that happened to her recently could be traced back to meeting Linara. Without her, Ferene never would have gone north, never would have met Rilya, Telhrian, Tahrean, and the rest.

“You kill people wit’tha’thing?”

Ferene took a moment to realize what the question was, lost in her own thoughts. “Yeah.” She nodded to the driver, who was looking down at the sword across Ferene’s legs.

“Wha’kinds’a’people?”

“Thieves. Murderers. Kidnappers.”

Nodding, the woman turned back to look at the road, falling silent.

“I’m Ferene. What’s your name?”

“Krista.”

Falling silent for a moment, Ferene tried to think of what to say next. “You work for Quent very long?”

Krista nodded. “Years.”

She didn’t look much older than Velan had. Maybe a bit over twenty. “Started young?”

Krista nodded again, but Ferene noticed her jaw tighten, so she fell silent.

The second day of travel was much like the first. One of the riders handed out travel bread, and Ferene sank her teeth into it as she sat beside Krista. The woman ate her own bread with one hand, the other holding the switch, the reins of the horses wrapped around a wooden post beside her. The two of them had little conversation after their brief chat in the morning.

Following the road took them up and down some of the gentler hills, curving to the side only a few times to avoid particularly steep inclines. They ended the day in a low valley, setting up camp once again. Ferene stood with the other two guards as they watched the wagon crews tend to the animals and their vehicles, then start cooking.

Before Ferene could step forward to get a bowl of the night’s soup, Krista handed her one. Quick inspection showed it was filled only with vegetables. Ferene nodded her thanks, and retreated to sit alone, only to notice the other woman following her. Sitting down, she waited as Krista did the same, but when nothing was said, started eating.

“Quent…he tell you ‘bout’tha’job?” She finally spoke up when Ferene was halfway done with her meal.

“Keep my eyes out for trouble until we reach the border. Then I’m free to head south.”

Krista frowned, then nodded, finally taking her first spoonful of her own bowl of soup.

The two ate together in silence, returning their empty bowls to the cook - another one of the wagon drivers - and Krista slid underneath her wagon to sleep. Looking around, Ferene saw that none of the others followed suit. The drivers and riders had their blankets set out on the open ground. Only Krista took cover underneath the vehicle. Shrugging, Ferene went and found a tree to lean against.

Over the next two days, Ferene continued that routine. Krista occasionally asked her a question or two, but mostly stayed silent, though the two ate dinner side by side. Something about the young woman bothered Ferene, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. There was a shyness about her.

At the end of the fifth day, they stopped at a flat, open area, where two streams met and formed a small lake. It was still early, but one of the wagon drivers called for the stop. All nine members of the caravan - Ferene, the other two guards, and the two people in each wagon - all got off and gathered around.

“We’re making a better pace than usual, on account of not stopping for lunch.” The gruff man said, smiling under his graying beard. “However, I’ve noticed you all stink, which is to be expected. So we’re going to take turns washing up, since we have a chance for it here. Lucky for us our numbers happen to work out so we can all take turns while staying safe.” He gave a chuckle. “Garth, Jona, and Vinny will go first, then the women, then the rest of the men.”

Everyone nodded. The man from the back of Ferene’s wagon, one of the other drivers, and one of the two guards all walked downstream, while another wagon rider - the older woman that made the soup and handed out the bread - walked over to join Krista and Ferene where they stood.

The first group of three men came back, and the three women left to wash in the stream behind a large outcropping of bushes. Ferene pulled off her armor and submerged herself in the running water, with the older woman following suit. Krista stared at the two of them awkwardly.

“Take off your clothes and get in the water, girl.” The older woman said harshly, and Krista quickly responded, pulling off her shirt and revealing a complicated web of scars underneath, starting from the lower right of her cage and radiating across her chest. As she finished disrobing and slid into the water, she looked away from Ferene.

Not long after the three of them entered the water, they heard shouts from the direction of the rest of the group. Ferene pulled herself out of the water, quickly pulled on her trousers and grabbed her sword, and started running. Rounding the bushes, she came into view of the rest of the group, finding the four men of the wagon crews standing, surrounded by four other people holding weapons. One of the two guards was face down on the ground, blood staining the grass around him, and the other knelt, a fifth new figure standing over him.

Ferene specialized in running, but the situation looked bad, so she stayed put, her sword in her hand, water dripping off her half naked body. Several of the people turned to stare at her. Her mind raced. Five of them, armed, close to unarmed people. If she moved, they could easily kill the wagon crew and the remaining guard. Just like how Ameila died. She had no armor, or even clothes, all of that back by the side of the river, with two more of the people she needed to protect. All of it-

“Is that Ferene?”

The question cut through her thoughts. She turned to look at the speaker, the one standing over the kneeling guard. A woman in red plate armor, a short axe in her hand, with another hanging from her belt.

“Lana?”